


Suffocating Under These Chains

by Celeste_19



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dead Allison Argent, Derek Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Flashbacks, Full Shift Werewolves, Hurt Stiles, Knives, M/M, Memories, POV Derek, POV Stiles, PTSD Stiles, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 01:29:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4371926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celeste_19/pseuds/Celeste_19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two months after the possession of Stiles by the Nogitsune, the pack is back out to help save Beacon Hills once again. A pack of witches show up, resulting in deep injuries, but that won't be the worse part of the night (at least not for Stiles). All had hoped to meet at Derek's loft, get patched up, and go home, but...memories are memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Knives Cut Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first Teen Wolf fic and I'm kind of proud of this one! Positive criticism always welcome and any ideas for this fic would be great! I love hearing what you guys think :) Thanks for reading! Warning: graphic depictions of violence, blood and gore (injuries resulting in cuts on stomach, arms, and legs.) I will try posting each chapter ASAP! I know they're kind of short, but I hope you like them!

~POV Stiles~  
'Oh My GOD were those knives they were throwing?' Stiles thought, becoming exhausted of these damn witches. He was hiding behind a big tree, gun in hand. Everyone finally agreed that he could be able to protect himself, and the best option was a pistol from Derek's secret stash. 

He hears snarling behind him and looks around the trunk to see Scott's wolf jump one of the witches, clawing at her face. Derek and Isaac are right behind him, searching for the other two witches. What Stiles could see that the rest of the pack couldn't, was a fourth witch, hidden in the trees. He kept screaming at them that there was another, but none of them heard Stiles, too caught up in the fight. Lydia was in his jeep not too far from the fight, guarding the edge of the park they were in. They wouldn't want some innocent jogger to run into a fight between a pack of teenage werewolves against a few middle aged women throwing knives that appeared in thin air. Stiles turned back around, away from the fight, to make sure his gun was locked and loaded. He looked up, feeling eyes on him, only to find a woman standing not ten feet in front of him. 'Dammit, the fourth witch.'

Her hands glowed with a dark light and surrounding her were floating knives. 'What was up with these witches and knives.' Stiles thought, eyeing the knives as they rotated around their controller. He couldn't move or even make a sound as she walked forward, until she had stopped about a foot away from him. Stiles' gun disappeared in an instant from his hands, flying through the trees until it smashed and shattered into a trunk. Stiles gulped, fear and panic starting to bubble in his chest. The knives were moving closer and closer, until all at once they shot forward.  
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
~POV Derek~  
He brought down one of the witches, twisting her head with his teeth until he heard a deep crack. It was the last one, all three witches were down, either knocked out or dead. It didn't matter; it was either them, or us. Slowly, he changed into his human form, watching behind him as Scott and Isaac did the same; they all thought the danger was gone. Scott stumbled a bit, Derek immediately knew it was a concussion. Isaac, on the other hand, was holding his arm, it broken during the fight with the last witch.

A noise caught Derek's attention, looking over to see his gun thrown into a nearby tree, shattering to pieces. He looked around, needing to find the only member of his pack that could be carrying a gun. He whipped around to the tree he knew Stiles was behind, and heard the erratic heart beats of the teen. He raced over, just in time to see each individual knife that surrounded the fourth, 'Crap there was another', witch shoot forward, straight for Stiles. Derek roared and ran straight for the witch, catching her off guard. He slammed her into a tree, knocking her unconscious. Derek turned to Stiles to assess the damage, almost praying that the witch had missed. 'There must have been at least twenty knives,' Derek thought. 

Each knife outlined his body, leaving deep gashed up both sides of his arms, on each side of his neck, down his sides, and surrounding both legs. Then, he noticed in the center of Stiles' stomach, was a short and thin blade sticking out, impaling him. It looked as if Stiles had participated in a knife throwing act gone wrong. Stiles looked in shock, frozen in place by the knives surrounding him. Derek rushed forward, trying to pull each knife out as quick as he could, which only caused them to cut in deeper into Stiles. Scott had finally joined them, Isaac in tow behind him. Between the two, one concussion and two already healing broken bones. They looked over to Stiles, watching as he slid to the ground when the last knife was pulled away from him. Each cut bled furiously, slowly pooling on the ground.

"Scott, we need to get him to my house. Bring him to the jeep." Derek spoke, a little winded from his (healing) bruised ribs. Scott walked over to Stiles, but stopped when Stiles raised his hand.

"I can walk, I'm fine," Stiles whispered softly, painfully puling himself up with help from the trunk behind him, aggravating the cuts that covered his body. Scott couldn't argue, and only walked close by Stiles to make sure he didn't collapse. They all make their slow trek back to the jeep, Lydia sitting patiently in the drivers seat.

"A jogger came by, I told him the park was closed. That was it." Lydia replied, glaring at whosever idea it was to leave her behind. They all packed into the jeep, Lydia driving them all back to Derek's loft. Once they finally got there and into the loft, Derek sent Isaac and Peter, who was sitting on the couch when he walked in, to get a couple first aid kits, while he went to the kitchen to grab an ice pack for Scotts head. Stiles sat down on the ground, his back leaned against a wall. 

Derek threw the ice pack at Scott, telling him to keep it on his head. He also checked over Isaac, seeing his arm and ribs already healing. Immediately, he turned his attention to Stiles, feeling waves of pain roll off him as he laid on the ground, frozen. The even cuts lined his whole body, from each of his ankles to each side of his neck; the only different one was the bloody line in the center of his stomach. Derek squatted in front of the panicking bow, a first aid kit in hand.

"Stiles?" he whispered, trying to get the boys attention. He felt Scott standing behind him, and heard Isaac splay himself across his couch. Lydia was staring at Stiles, worry etched across her face. 

"Stiles I'm going to bandage all these before they bleed out, okay?" He tried to look for any signs that Stiles could hear him; finally, Derek saw the smallest of nods from Stiles. Derek nodded back, opening the aid kit and pulling out antibiotics and rolls of gauze. He applied the ointment, not wanting to risk infection, then started to wrap the gauze around stiles' exposed arms. He decided to wrap Stiles' legs last, sparing the boys pride and knowing he'll need more gauze anyway. When Derek touched the first gash with gauze, stiles' eyes rolled into the back of his head his body falling back with pain.

"Are they supposed to be this painful!?" Derek screamed at Scott, not knowing the human pain scale as well as he thought. Scott shook his head, immediately knowing something was wrong with the cuts.

"Call Deaton," Derek growled, Scott immediately pulling his phone out and walking out the front door, following orders. Derek held Stiles in place as he shook in pain, his heart rate increasing rapidly.

'Please hurry Deaton,' Derek thought hopelessly.


	2. Actions Run Deeper Than Cuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -His breath quickened and his heart rate shot dangerously high. All the wolves rushed to Stiles' side, Derek kneeling in front of him.
> 
> "Stiles? Stiles! What the hell is happening to him?!" Derek was panicking, hearing the outrageously fast heart rate and the convulsing figure sitting in front of him.-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this! Warnings about this chapter!!- panic attacks, triggers, blood
> 
> -Aconitum is actually known as wolf's bane and the Queen of all Poisons. It comes from the flower Monkshood, and is highly toxic to humans. Actually, 'back in the day', this poison was used to kill wolves, hence the name wolf's bane!- just a little info to help you in this chapter!

Still, even with no word from Deaton, Derek kept wrapping the barely conscious boy. He cut off the shirt after finishing each arm, assessing the damage of Stiles' sides and stomach. Thankfully, the one knife that pierced the center of his stomach didn't go in too deep. His sides, on the other hand, fared much worse; the blood was soaking down his sides, slowly pouring out of every cut as if it were sucking the life out of Stiles. By the time Derek was finishing the wrappings over Stiles' stomach, he started to resemble a mummy. Scott walked in a couple minutes later, saying that Deaton was a couple minutes away. Derek only nodded.

Derek waited for Deaton to come before even attempting he boys' legs, knowing the most cuts were there, and he didn't want Scott or Isaac to see the damage. The already-wrapped cuts were starting to bleed through their thinly wrapped gauze, so Derek applied a couple more layers to his arms. Not five minutes later, the vet walked through the door, carrying a small case and wearing a stern and worrying mask over his face. He kneeled next to the young teen, looking at the damage on his neck, which hadn't been wrapped yet.

"How did this happen?" was Deatons first of many questions, and Derek was the one to answer every single one, since he was the only one there to see what directly happened. Deaton pulled open his case after close investigation of the wounds, noticing their purple tinge, and pulled out a bottle of deep red ash. His case revealed hundreds of small vials of herbs and seasonings.

I need you to hold him down. This will be very painful and he does not need to injure himself any more. The knives were dipped in what seems to be Aconitum poison, which is similar to wolf's bane, just geared for humans. This phoenix ash can draw out the poison, but it will be very, very painful. "Deaton explained.

"Let's get him to a bathroom so we can take all the gauze off." Derek finally spoke, his mind still reeling at the cuts covering the boy. Stiles had finally dropped his head, succumbing to unconsciousness. Deaton nodded to his idea, and got up to let Derek pick up Stiles. Scott and Isaac were right behind the two older men as they walked to the downstairs bathroom.

"Scott, Isaac, I need you to both stay out. When we're done, you two can see him." Deaton turned around to meet the two shocked boys. Finally, after pleading with their eyes for some time, they finally walked out and back to the living room. The door shut behind Deaton as he turned to find derek setting Stiles on the edge of the bathtub.

Derek helped Deaton unwrap his arms and torso, revealing angry red and purple tinged gashes. Following Deaton's earlier words, Derek sat behind Stiles in the bathtub, grabbing his shoulders and holding his steady as he lolled to the side. The first of the ash was poured on Stiles' arms, creating a terrible sizzling noise. Derek was just glad that Stiles was out cold; it was making this much easier. After clearing Stiles' arms, neck, and torso, all that was left was his legs and hips. Derek knew these were the worst, cutting the deepest. The boys' jeans were soaked, blood now covering the originally blue color.

Deaton grabbed scissors, slowly cutting up all the sides of the jeans, all the way to the belt. They rolled up his boxers, taking in the brutal damage. Long cuts ran up the inside and outside of Stiles' legs. There must have been at least fifteen on each leg. They got to work quickly with the ash, not knowing exactly how much longer Stiles was going to stay unconscious.

Finally, after covering the inside and outside of Stiles' legs with ash, Derek helped tightly wrap every cut with gauze, not wanting the ash to slip out or any germs come in. He only left to grab a pair of big sweatpants, Deaton and him slipping it over Stiles' legs carefully, hoping they wouldn't rub too much.

Ten minutes later, everyone was out in the living room, Stiles laying on the sofa, Deaton already gone, and the two other teens quietly talking to themselves. Peter had long since disappeared; to where, he couldn't even guess.

Movement on the couch brought Derek's attention over to Stiles, who was cracking his eyes open and groaning in pain as he tried to wrap his arms around his stomach. His newly wrapped cuts were bleeding again, starting to show under the thick, white gauze. Derek walked to Stiles' side, pulling his hands back down to his sides.

"Stiles, I wouldn't do that." Derek whispered, feeling the two other wolf teens standing behind him.

"What? What happ'ned?" Stiles slurred, finally giving up on moving by himself.

"The witches. We were attacked, and you got cut by a few knives." Derek tried to sound soothing, as to not let Stiles freak out over the severity of his injuries. Derek glared back at Isaac after hearing him whisper to Scott, "A few is an understatement." With help from Derek, Stiles pushed himself up to an almost sitting position against the couch, not looking down to see his body yet.

"Anyth'ng f'r pain?" Stiles slurred, his eyes closing as he laid his head back on the couch. Derek nodded and grabbed the two pain pulls he had left on the end table next to Stiles, along with a glass of water. The most difficult part was trying to get Stiles compliant enough to swallow them.

"I don't th'nk I can take th't..." Stiles tried pushing Derek's hand away from his mouth, but it didn't so much as even budge. Derek just shook his head, lightly pulling Stiles' head back and dropping the pills into his mouth. Then, he handed the glass of water to Stiles, who after trying to hold on to it, almost spilled it all over himself. Derek sighed, grabbing the glass and putting it to the boys' lips, helping him swallow the pills.

Finally, after Stiles knew he could completely keep the pills in and they started to kick in, he opened his eyes and looked down at his body. The first thing he noticed was the gauze wrapping both his arms and torso from his neck to his waist. After even closer inspection, he saw it wrapped on his hips, and under the band of the sweat pants he was questioningly wearing, realizing quickly that his legs were stiffly wrapped as well.

His breath quickened and his heart rate shot up dangerously high. All the wolves rushed to Stiles' side, Derek kneeling in front of him.

"Stiles? Stiles! What the hell is happening to him?!" Derek was panicking, hearing the outrageously fast heart rate and the convulsing figure in front of him.

"It's a panic attack, we need to calm him down!" Scott spit out, putting his hands on Stiles' shoulder to try to ground his friend.

Stiles, the cuts aren't even that bad! You'll be healed in no time, I promise!" Derek tried, thinking that the wounds and blood had sparked the attack. He raced through his mind all the things that could have also triggered this, watching helplessly as Stiles' eyes rolled in the back of his head. His body jerked, as if being attacked from the inside.

"It's a panic attack, right? We need to get him out of his head, he's obviously stuck in a memory!" Isaac yelled, trying to think of anything they could do. Derek nodded, not thinking as he brought his finger tips to the back of Stiles' neck, his claws coming out and piercing the fragile skin. He was going to do anything to help Stiles.

"Wait Derek, we need to think abo-" Scott screamed, but it was too late. Derek slumped forward, laying on top of Stiles, unconscious and now in whatever hellish nightmare Stiles was experiencing.


	3. Memories Are Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -It was dark, too dark, and there was a painful, gasping noise surrounding him. His senses were filled with the metallic smell of blood.
> 
> "Stiles?" Derek called out, wandering through the devouring darkness for what seemed like hours.-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for staying with this and reading! I think this is going to be the last chapter, but I hope to see you back here again to read more stuff! :) WARNING- there will be blood, and gore, and sad memories in this chapter, as well as mild panic attacks. Also...KISSING. (yasss!)

It was dark, too dark, and there was a painful, gasping noise surrounding him. His senses were filled with the metallic smell of blood.

"Stiles?" Derek called out, wandering through the devouring darkness for what seemed like hours. Suddenly, as if hitting a light switch, the room burst with light. Derek snapped his eyes shut, his hands covering his face, the light burning after being trapped in darkness for so long. Soon, though, he peeled his eyes open and looked at his surroundings. The room was bare, no doors, windows, nothing. Nothing except the splattered black and red blood that painted the walls. It covered every inch of the normally white walls, dripping off the ceiling and pooling all over the cement ground.

Derek turned around to see the other half of the deserted room to see a familiar person strapped with chains to a chair. He sat in the center of the room, unmoving and seemingly unconscious. 

He rushed over, immediately recognizing a tortured and beaten Stiles. His face broke from its usual non-emotion mask, showing pure terror at the zoned out eyes of the boy in front of him. His hands and ankles were bound to the chair with bloody, metal chains. Blood started pooling around the legs of the old, wooden chair, coming from seemingly nowhere. Derek was now beginning to look horrified, panic rising in his chest.

"Stiles?! Can you hear me?!" Derek kneeled in front of the almost catatonic boy, trying to ignore the overflowing blood that was filling the ground. Derek reached forward, grabbing Stiles wrists to try to get them out of the bloody chains, when he was suddenly bombarded with images. More than just images, more than even plain videos, they were memories; more accurate, they were Stiles' memories.

Red, and pain, and gore, and guilt, all swirling around his head, constricting around his heart. Stiles was moving, interacting in the world around him, but it wasn't him.

Derek watched the horrid memory start, unable to do anything to stop the flashing memories, only seeing what Stiles had saw. All Stiles saw was darkness, his body twitching as he became claustrophobic; the lack of oxygen wasn't helping either. Then a flash of painful light, and Scott was suddenly in front of him, pulling at his face to get the rest of the medical wrap off. He was in Scott's house, and had absolutely no recollection of the past week. He looked down at his body, covered in the bloody gauze, constricting him. He could still hear the Nogitsune laughing maniacally in his head. The sound made Derek shudder.

The scene shattering, and another memory quickly filled its place.

The demon, watching as all of Stiles' friends fought the Oni warriors. Derek knew this memory with clear vividness, recalling when Scott had told him with haunted eyes and tear tracks down his face.

Finally, after torturing himself with the thoughts of the memory, it played out in front of him. All froze when Allison was stabbed, the air being taken out of her lungs as she crashed to the ground. He saw Scotts' face, him running to catch the past love of his life. Derek felt Stiles' emotions, the pull of grief and pain, but most of all, guilt. He blamed it all on himself.

What Derek realized, that Stiles had never told anyone, was the fact that his sight was like double vision after him separating from the demon. He could see what his body saw, but at the same time he could see where the demon was, and what he was doing. Even though he was in the tunnel when Allison died, he still saw it, still felt everything the demon felt.

The actual Stiles dropped to his knees, completely unaware of Lydia screaming beside him, as he watched one of his best friends die in front of him. The feeling of being constricted returned with full force, the gauze covering the demon seemed to wrap its way around Stiles' mind, around his heart. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. Derek finally had the strength and lucidness to pull his hands back from Stiles' wrists, as if he had been burned. He gasped and looked down, realizing that he was on his knees, his jeans soaking in the dark blood. He couldn't seem to catch his breath either, his lungs still feeling the aftershock.

He whipped his head around, seeing himself still trapped in the bare room, with Stiles still strapped to the blood chair in front of him. Stiles gasped in the chair, his eyes jerking open as he tried and failed to take in oxygen. Derek pulled himself closer to Stiles, unsure of how to help but not wanting to touch Stiles again for obvious reasons. Instead, he breathed loudly and deeply, trying to get Stiles to follow his breaths. Suddenly, the ground shook, and Derek looked up to find the bloodied walls closing in on them.

"Stiles! Stiles please calm down!" Derek yelled into the boys face, hearing that every struggling breath the boy tried to take kept pulling the walls in. They didn't look like stopping anytime soon either.

The walls were all less than a foot away now, and the light was becoming more dim. Stiles looked like he wasn't even there mentally anymore, his eyes staring forward and his breathing labored. The walls now pushed up onto the back of Stiles' chair, as well as Derek's feet. Within a couple seconds, as the walls pushed Derek and Stiles together, making Derek stand as to not touch the catatonic boy, the lights flickered off, plummeting the cubicle into darkness.

Derek was shoved into the present, falling back onto the ground and away from Stiles, who was now sitting on his sofa. There was no chains, no blood, just his loft and Scott Isaac, and Lydia. He was trying to force in breaths, trying to make his vision less fuzzy. A short gasp made the teens whip there heads toward the couch, and making Derek pull himself up, his body protesting in pain.

Stiles' eyes were open, his face moving around and taking in his surroundings. Before he could look down, Derek was there, grabbing Stiles' shoulders hands and looking him in the eyes. A distraction.

"Scott, Isaac, unwrap everything," Derek commanded, not caring what Deaton said about keeping the ash in. Stiles just kept staring at Derek's face. Still, even though Stiles couldn't look down to see the gauze encasing his body, his heart rate continued to climb. He could feel the bounds around his arms and legs, it felt so awfully familiar, and he couldn't stand the suffocation. He started to gasp, not even feeling Scott and Isaac grabbing at his arms, still both slightly confused but following Derek's orders anyway.

Derek needed a bigger distraction than his words, they weren't working. Acting out of impulse, he brought his hands up to each side of Stiles' head, forcing his attention to face Derek. It wasn't enough, his heart rate continued to rise alarmingly, even with the close contact.

"Go faster!" Derek growled at the two wolves. Scott had already finished his right arm, and was beginning to start on Stiles' neck. Isaac wasn't far behind.

Desperation was scrawled all over Derek's face, not knowing what to do to help Stiles. 'I can't let him die, I can't let him feel like this anymore. I care too much about him. I lov-' Derek's mind stopped thinking abruptly, his eyes going wide at the shaking and gasping boy in front of him. They made eye contact one more, and Derek knew what he had to do.

Derek leaned forward, catching Stiles' lips with his own, immediately halting the gasping and the shaking. Stiles' neck and torso were done now, and all that was left was his legs; both teens paused. Derek broke the kiss, glaring at the two boys who were staring at him with saucer-like eyes. His hands were still encasing the fragile boys face, who was looked a little less pale, but still quietly gasping and shuddering.

"Get the damn sweats off, he's wearing boxers!" They immediately went back to trying to get the gauze off, ripping up the sides of the sweats and starting on each leg. Some of the wounds opened back up, bleeding down his body and onto the couch and floor, but Derek couldn't care less. He brought his face back to stare Stiles in the eyes.

"Stiles, you're okay. I promise, nothing is going to happen to you." Derek repeated, his face inches from Stiles'. Stiles gulped and nodded, his heart rate continuing to go down slowly. Scott pulled a little on one of the bandages, causing Stiles to look down, too quickly for Derek to catch his face and pull it back up. Stiles stared, his eyes bloodshot and his heart spiking as he saw the bloody gauze covering his legs and surrounding the ground around him. Derek pulled his face back up, seeing and feeling the ever growing fear and panic.

"Is that-is that m-my blood or," Stiles stuttered, his face paling at the thought of who else's blood this could be. 'Had the demon come back, how many did I kill, am I dead, in shock?' Stiles' mind ran through every possibility that could have happened.

"Stiles! Come back to me!" He heard a voice, and was pulled out of his thoughts by Derek, who was staring at him worriedly.

"S'rry," Stiles muttered.

"No Stiles, you don't have to apologize. And yes, it is your blood, no one else's. You were grazed by a couple knives during a witch fight." Derek explained slowly, his voice trying to sound smooth and comforting. Stiles nodded, but his heart didn't sound like it was slowing down. Derek leaned forward once again, intending to keep Stiles' mind from thinking any more than needed. their lips met, and Stiles' mind was wiped clean of any thoughts. Even Derek was at a blank.

Finally, the last strand of the gauze was released from its hold on Stiles' hip, and Stiles let out a shuddering breath, disconnecting his lips from Derek's.

"Are you okay?" Derek whispered, and Stiles nodded slowly, his breath becoming less and less forced. Scott came up to Stiles and smiled, putting his hand on Stile's shoulder. Isaac sat next to Stiles, hiding his view from majority of the blood that covered the couch and ground. For that, Derek was grateful. Lydia, not like Derek had noticed, had been standing behind him the whole time, and finally pushed Derek away to get a look at Stiles, to prove to herself that he was going to be okay. After a while of sitting in silence, it was realized by the whole group that Stiles would not be leaving the loft for a while. They doubt he was able to walk, and even more doubt that he could make it home before passing out or worse.

"I'll call his dad, tell him that Stile's is sleeping over for a couple nights. Gaming marathon or something." Scott tried making up a lie, but Derek shut him up.

"Tell him the truth Scott, he deserves to know." Scott finally nods at Derek, taking his phone out. Isaac and Scott left a few minutes later, realizing that Melissa would start freaking out if they were out this late. It was almost three in the morning. They all promised to keep in contact, and Derek had promised to call them all and update them in the morning. Lydia soon left as well, driving Stiles' jeep back to his house to drop it off. That left Derek alone with Stiles, who looked as if he was going to pass out from exhaustion. Derek wanted to get him in a bed, or at least something more comfortable than the blood stained couch.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," Derek spoke, slowly and painfully lifting Stiles into his arms. He realized that he couldn't walk too far, Stiles was in too much pain and Derek's legs weren't cooperating with him completely. The closest room he could get to was his, all the rest were upstairs. He crawled his way to his own bedroom, carefully laying Stiles on the bed. Stiles groaned, turning onto his side in obvious pain. Derek quickly switched into a clean shirt and boxers, throwing away his bloodied clothes. He slipped into the bed next to Stiles, pushing Stiles into a more comfortable position and covering him up carefully.

Derek, then, laid his hands on the boys' shoulder, watching black veins snake up his arm as he took all the pain, leaving Stiles numb, but content. Derek hissed as the pain receded from his own body, then laid down, needing to rest after this too long of a day.

Slowly, Stiles turned onto his other side, no longer feeling the intense pain, to face Derek.

"Thank you," Stiles murmured, pulling himself over a couple inches and pushing his lips onto Derek's, relishing in the feeling. Derek kissed him back, but pulling back too soon.

"You need to rest. We can do all that later, but for now I need you to sleep." Derek says in his most stern voice, but it only makes Stiles laugh. He cuddles closer to Derek, pushing his face into the other mans chest. Finally, both of them comfortable, Derek closes his eyes and relaxes.

"But one more kiss wouldn't hurt right now would it?" Stiles whispers into the dark, making Derek roll his closed eyes.

"Go to sleep Stiles."

"Whatever you say sourwolf."


End file.
